


Whipped

by phoenixhowl



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Light BDSM, M/M, Object Insertion, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-09
Updated: 2012-12-09
Packaged: 2017-11-20 17:09:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/587757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixhowl/pseuds/phoenixhowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The younger Moran wants to have a go at the younger Moriarty as payback for Jim having his brother whipped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whipped

Having the evening free suited Richard wonderfully. He treated himself to some Guinness and colcannon, delighted at the idea of just hanging around the flat, reading a book and watching some telly. He could use some time for himself, so when a knock on the door echoed through his apartment, he couldn't help but sigh and roll his eyes. He wasn't expecting anything or anyone, and he didn't have the kind of friends that stopped by unannounced. His lower lip was sucked in as he thought, but his politeness won. Never mind how much he hated unexpected visits, he wouldn't let anyone wait on his doorstep, that was simply not done. He quickly checked his appearance and opened the door with a creak, the chain still on it. His doe-eyes met a piercing blue gaze, and Richard raised his eyebrows.

“Sebastian?”

Seeing the blond without his brother by his side was a bit odd, but Richard still let him in, closing the door behind the taller man. Maybe something had happened, maybe there was something the matter with Jim. Judging the feral grin that curled on the thin lips it couldn't be anything bad, though. He always had liked that grin, it was so dangerously charming. It just did things to him. 

“Is there something the matter with James?”

“Mhm? Oh, no,” he mused, the grin widening, sending shivers down Richard's spine. “Am sure he's just being a prick to someone somewhere, as always.”

There was just something in his voice, a certain tone of carelessness that made Richard spin around, his eyes squinting. Sebastian wouldn't talk like that. Sure, he would call James a prick at times, but not like that. His searching gaze fixed himself on something dark, just sticking out from underneath the neckline of the shirt, and he took a step back.  
“You're not Sebastian,” he breathed, his lips parting in slight shock. The man shook his head and chuckled, extending a tanned hand for Richard to shake. “Am not. Name is Severin. Pleasure to meet you.”

Richard couldn't help but marvel at the strong handshake, and at just how much Sebastian and Severin were alike at first sight. “I do hope you were planning on telling me that eventually,” he said cautiously, his fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt. Severin tilted his head with a chuckle and brushed a hand through his blonde hair. “Eventually, yeah. I like to see how long it takes for everyone to figure it out. Childish, maybe, but it entertains me.”

Thin, black eyebrows perched up in amazement at so much playful carelessness. Sebastian was much more rigid than that, but still, there was no reason for Severin to be here, in Richard's apartment. “Funny,” he said drily. “But I'm sure that's not the reason why you're, well, here.”

The feral grin was back on Severin's features, and he reached into his bag. Big doe-eyes squinted at the strong, tanned fingers that curled around the black leather handle, the thong still neatly curled up in the man's fist. Richard straightened up at the sight, chin tucking in the air, soft, pink lips curling in some kind of a snarl. "That's no way to introduce yourself." The blond just grinned and took hold of Richard's chin, a rough thumb caressing the pale skin. "Aye, well. You see, your brother has my brother whipped. I'm merely trying to return the favour." 

He jerked his head out of the touch with a cold chuckle, staring at him unbelievingly. “And what makes you think I would let you?”

“A few reasons,” Severin shrugged, sauntering closer and invading Richard's personal space once more. “Number one being my darling loose-lipped brother who likes to blab when he had a scotch too much. You can fill the rest in, I guess.”

The pale skin of his cheeks flushed, the blush creeping to his ears and into his neck, and the assassin laughed, brushing the pads of his fingers over the heated skin. “Yeah, I already thought you would react like that.”

Richard had to roll his head back, his wide eyes looking up. He opened his mouth to say something clever, anything, but his brain was failing him. Black, smooth leather slid up over his shirt, making him shiver. “So, what do you say, Bambi? Let's play.”

“Bambi,” he repeated, dry lips curling up slightly. “For some reason, people say that to me as some kind of insult, but he's the Great Prince of the Forest. Not to mention he has a lovely mate, giving birth to twins. So if I'm Bambi, what does that make you?”

Severin brushed his thumb over Richard's plump lower lip, blue eyes glinting mischievously. “Remind me not to try and make a fairytale-reference in front of The Story Teller anymore. But you do get an extra lashing for trying to make me the doe.”

“I wasn't aware I consented.”

“You don't seem to go anywhere.”

Again, Richard was lost for words. Severin was right, he had not tried to get away from the man. They were still standing close, their chests almost touching. The fall of the whip tickled over his exposed collar bones, his breath hitching in his throat. He had always been attracted to Sebastian, that was certainly no secret. And now there was a copy of him right there, one his brother didn't seem to own, offering to play. And Richard would be lying if he said he disliked the idea of the blond having a go at him. He nearly couldn't believe himself, but he straightened up and looked Severin in the eyes.

“Haven't heard any orders either.”

“Heh, look at that,” he growled, licking at his lips. “Shirt off, doll. On your knees, and brace your hands against the couch. Oh, and don't take them off until I explicitly say so.”

“Yes, sir.” The V-neck was quickly stripped off and tossed to the floor, and he grinned when he saw Severin's appreciative look. “Oh, and it's peppermint, by the way. Before you ask. You know, the safe word.”

Richard obediently did as he was told, his shoulder blades pushing together just a bit as he tensed up. He could hear the assassin tut, a faint sensation tickling down his spine as he felt the braided leather. “Now, now. I'm not going to hurt you. Well, not more than you want.”

The whip cracked, lashing a red welt over the pale skin, right on the soft flesh between the ribs, and Richard couldn't help but moan. “You're... you're actually good at this.”

“I hear some surprise,” he chuckled, cracking the whip again, eliciting another moan from the smaller man. “And look at you, you really like it. I thought Sebastian had been exaggerating, but that doesn't seem the case.”

The popper smacked against the pallid skin with every slap of the lash, and Richard moaned louder and louder, muscles shivering as he braced himself against the sofa. His cock twitched in his trousers, he could feel the pre cum leaking into his pants. The burn of welts spread through his body, heating him up, fuelling his arousal. His back was covered in angry, red stripes, his chest heaving with every breath he took, and he was just aching for more. 

Severin seemed to understand when the man knelt behind him, letting one teasing finger slide over the obvious bulge in his pants. “Look at you,” he repeated his earlier words. “Such a good, little pet. You deserved a little treat, I think. Would you like that?”

“Oh, God, yes..., sir,” Richard breathed, eyes fluttering close at the touch, willing himself not to rub against it for more friction. The taller man just hummed and tugged the trousers loose, tugging to his knees and taking the pants with them. There was some rummaging in the bag he brought, and Richard trained his ears on the recognizable click of a cap popping open. He stole a quick peak, only to see Severin lubing the handle of his whip up. The man returned quickly, encircling his cock with rough fingers, stroking him as he teased his entrance with the end of the whip. 

It was slowly pushed inside of him, the stretch adding to the burn that was already racing through his body. The feeling made him curse and moan, his head rolling back as he arched into the touch. Severin didn't push it all the way in, he wasn't rushing it. He let Richard get used to the penetration as he palmed him expertly, letting it slowly slide in and out of him as he whispered filthy nothings into his ear. Every touch was awarded with some kind of sound, and if Richard wasn't so wrapped up in his own arousal, he would be embarrassed by his own noisiness. 

The handle thrust in deeper and deeper, nudging against his prostate, making him crazy. His hips rolled into Severin's touch, eager to get more friction, eager to be satisfied. His eyes screwed shut, and he just focussed on the feeling; on the stinging skin of his back, the tightening knot in his lower abdomen, the lewd whispers that burned down his ear, the stimulation of his sensitive prostate. The combined sensation brought him to the edge embarrassingly fast, and he started to whine, his muscles tensing up some more. 

“Please,” he breathed, “Please, let me come.”

Severin chuckled, hot breath rolling over Richard's ear, and he gave a few more agonizing thrusts, twisting his wrist around the shaft. His teeth tugged at an earlobe, and he pressed a kiss just below it before he finally gave in. “Sure, doll. It's your own couch you're going to stain.”

His chest started to heave irregularly, even more so than first, muscles twitching as he constricted around the smooth leather Severin was fucking him with, and Richard let go of the last strands of self-control, releasing himself. His cock twitched, come spurting over Severin's hand and his own stomach, his eyes screwing shut as he moaned. 

He practically collapsed against the couch, faintly registering that Severin slipped the handle out of him and pulled away. His head lied against the fluff pillows of his couch as he tried to catch his breath, feeling a post-coital haze settle over himself. Strong hands started to take care of the burning welts on his back, and there was a cooling balm being spread over his skin. He hummed contently, his lips tugging in a small, blissful smile. Severin seemed to lift him up when he was done, and suddenly he was surrounded by the familiar smell of his own sheets, being tucked in. The haze made him drowsy, and he felt so comfortable that it didn't take long for him to start to slumber.

The last thing he registered was his front door closing, and he curled himself up, falling in a nice, deep sleep.


End file.
